


A Friendship Between The Feud

by hoestreet



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: F/M, Homeless Jughead Jones, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jeronica, Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge Friendship, Jughead Jones is Not Asexual, Jughead Jones is a Good Friend, Jughead and Veronica just wanna be best mates, Minor Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, They just wanna have a great time leave them be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:26:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoestreet/pseuds/hoestreet
Summary: The way we WANT Jeronica’s friendship to progress across this season (though it’s quite an unrealistic ask)“AU where Jughead joins in on calling her “Ronnie bc I WANT IT” an idea from archieandrewsprotectionsquad on tumblr





	A Friendship Between The Feud

**Author's Note:**

> I literally saw the fic idea and knocked this up today at 2am so just let me be I beg lmao. It's short and a bit pointless and definitely not my best work but I figured you could have it anyway because bad jeronica is better than no jeronica.
> 
> But anyways I hope you enjoy it and please give me more jeronica ideas because they're my favourite couple to write about.

Everyone but Jughead and Veronica saw it when they started getting close. They looked around and all of a sudden they were best friends, muttering dark secrets hidden in literature references and seeking comfort in each other while laughing at the sheer amount of pathetic fallacy that Riverdale seemed to exert. It was somehow brought about by the one thing that should’ve pushed them further apart, the war of the sides. Their fathers were pushing avidly to ruin each other and in tow, their respected supporters, and somehow in the midst of all that stood strong the couple who seemed to share pop culture jokes among the crossfire, protected by dry humour and intense relatability. The longer the feud went on, the more Jughead found of himself in the girl and it didn’t scare him as much as he thought it should’ve. Because while rich people had always had the centrepiece in his fierce hatred of society, he had a deep softness for the New York girl that he’d never out-rightly admit to, but that people were seeing more of anyway.

Jughead had no idea where or how this friendship suddenly developed at first, the bigger Riverdale complications overshadowing his focus on personal situations. He saw it when it arrived sure, but he had no warning, didn’t see it steamrolling in from the distance then. But then he thought about it, and piece by piece, he found himself the path that led to him referring to her as ‘Ronnie’ and not just ‘Veronica’.

He caught himself glance up at her while she was on stage singing at the Picket’s festival out of pure curiosity and _want_ to see her. Maybe he would’ve even smiled if there wasn’t a huge piece if duct tape covering his face and restricting his movements. He tried not to think of how much it’ll hurt when they have to rip it off later.

He also caught himself not feeling some sort of contempt towards her performing at the festival he was trying so hard to protest against. He sure didn’t like it, but, like him, she was sticking to his roots, wanting nothing but to make her father proud, and he almost put that determination above actually doing the right thing.

After that particular event, they found themselves behind a tent, just hugging, and Jughead didn’t know how he let himself sit contentedly in that position but he was actually comfortable. Funny, because a month ago, he would’ve laughed at the idea of anyone in his life hugging him for this long and him actually _liking_ it. And he and Veronica didn’t even talk all that much, the odd snarky comment here and there, so for them to be showing so much affection so out of the blue was so out of character for them.

But it marked the Beginning.

Of what, Jughead wasn’t sure, because their friendship had begun way before that and he’d been fond of the girl before that particular moment. It was just a turning point. He felt it.

Because after that he found himself thinking about her a lot more, about her situation on the opposite side and about how she was holding up over there.

This was definitely new to Jughead, because while he had liked her a bit, he’d never found himself genuinely concerned about her well-being like he was now and he didn’t know how to take that. Worrying about Archie and Betty had been enough to him, and these sudden figures to the equation threw him off balance.

He ended up pushing the thought away, walking off with Toni and draping an arm over the girl’s shoulders, as if he could ward off the heavy cloud of dejection that was surrounding her after being shut down so casually by a privileged Northsider yet again. Veronica was one of those privileged Northsiders. But the disdain he felt for the others bar Archie and Betty wasn’t there for her either. He ignored it.

The next day at school was a normal one and he didn’t like it. Same getting pushed into with the same dicks throwing mindless words at him and laughing amongst themselves, and the same non-existent Archie Andrews, while all he wanted was peace and quiet to brood. He found himself stumbling upon company in the student lounge with the one and only Veronica Lodge.

She wasn’t aware of his presence until the door shut behind him, and she peered behind her to see him, standing there in a pathetically thin construction worker flannel and his signature ‘S’ tee, and he took in her glasses and perfect makeup and the fact that somehow she looked deflated.

She was reading a book. ‘Insurgent’, by Veronica Roth. It was a fair book, Jughead decided, thinking back to when he read the first page at the library no less than a year ago, and he must say, the title really was fitting with present day Riverdale politics. He vaguely remembered the point of the book, something about being factionless, having a place in society once but all of a sudden being in utter confusion at where you're supposed to be stood. As he previously thought, the book settled in with modern day Riverdale all too well.

He sat down next to her and nodded his greeting before leaning backwards and sighing quietly, enjoying the comfortable silence while Veronica next to him continued to read for a few minutes.

Until he looked up and recognised a distant look in his friend’s eyes that suggested that none of the words on the page were actually making it into her brain.

She must've felt his gaze because she turned to him slowly, a light frown on her face. “Remember that conversation we had about my dad before?”

Jughead nodded, his eyes dropping to her lap where her fingers danced across the back of her hand restlessly.

“I- he’s doing the right thing? Right?”

“I’m not sure if you’re asking the right person Veronica,” Jughead answered back dryly, but she could hint the smile in his voice without even having to look up.

“He just spoke over your lot’s protest to save his business project. Is that bad, like put into perspective and not forget the context? Am I supposed to praise him? Am I supposed to reprimand him?”

“It’s not your job to do any of those things,” Jughead said simply. “Blood is thicker than water, but they both still have the tendency to flow down an alternative path sometimes and we’re not always expected to dig a canal and set the river straight again.”

Veronica just nodded and swallowed, but the slightly haunted look was still present on her face, so Jughead tried again. “What I’m trying to say is at the end of the day, your dad is human. And he has priorities. His family, you, you’re the priority.”

Veronica nodded again and took her glasses off, pushing a hopeful smile onto her face. “And you’re not mad at me right?”

“Me? Mad? At your Dad’s actions? Now wouldn’t that be quite hypocritical of me?” he grinned up at her and Veronica huffed out a laugh.

“You’re quite the agony aunt Jughead Jones.”

“And you certainly aren’t the worst client I’ve ever had Veronica Lodge.”

“I’m guessing Archie’s girl issues trump my daddy ones?”

“Spot on, they blow yours right out the water. They’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“Is that your way of insisting that you share them?”

“Morticia Adams, you’re asking me to open a dark hole here.” He thought about that sentence as it left his mouth – his brain had been desperate to just go for it all and call her Ronnie, but he thought against it at the last moment. It felt uncomfortable and wrong at the back of his throat.

“I just want the insight on the Archiekins I’m growing to know and love.”

Jughead’s eyebrow quirked up as he began happily spilling the tea on his best friend. Veronica knew she was in for a ride when Jughead started off with “so, you’re familiar with the scar on his forehead? Because that comes with a delightfully tasty story…”

Her laughs drowned out the bell.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jughead found himself with Veronica in all manner of places where their parents couldn’t find them and try and tear them apart in light of the growing hatred and tension between both sides of the town.

She took him shopping, which surprisingly, went well. He didn’t hate his life as much as he thought he would, and he didn’t complain as much as she thought he would. And he’d proved himself to be one of the best shopping assistants, offering to hold some of her bags then cashing out the weight of the bags in terms of meals, and helping her choose outfits with a ruthless truthfulness that he knew only she would appreciate.

He took her to the only other place in Riverdale that could even think to rival Pops on its food, a small cake shop in the middle of the Southside. She declared that she’d probably hate it, not fancying the carbs, but Jughead just scoffed and reminded her of the two burgers each they’d ate in the morning, which resulted in him nearly getting pushed into someone’s shrubbery. Despite the earlier doubt, the two managed to buy out the shop and this became another frequent meet-up spot, where they’d enjoy hot chocolate and £20 worth of cake each as they seemed physically unable to spend less than that at the quaint little bakery.

But of course, the main place the two met up at was none other than Pops. Nothing would really compare to his rich milkshakes and perfect fries, and Jughead stated that the lighting in there was softer on his eyes, to which Veronica just rolled her eyes and shoved him lightly. “No one cares about your eyes Jughead. They should already be square from staring at that godforsaken laptop screen 30 hours a day.”

“No one ever got good at something by never doing it Veronica,” he shot back defensively, taking a handful of fries from her plate and shovelling them down in such a way that Veronica grimaced a little.

“Is that how you perfected your gift of the gab?”

“But of course.”

Veronica sat and cocked her head at Jughead, who looked up from his coffee and shot her a questioning look. “What?”

“FP looked a bit on edge today. More than usual, I mean. Is everything alright?”

Jughead let a small bitter smile make itself apparent on his face, and for a little while, Veronica didn’t think he was going to answer; his eyes hardened and he stared past her out the window at the end of the shop. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

Jughead shifted in his seat slightly. “I haven’t seen him around much is all.” He adjusted his beanie and let his fingertips tap the table. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I’m worried,” she confessed, way too quickly and way too full of certainty to be a lie. Still, Jughead’s eyes narrowed.

“About me or yourself?”

“This isn’t about the civil war Jug. This is about us. Me and you and whether you’re okay.”

Jughead won’t lie, his ears switched off after she referred to him as ‘Jug’. In his eyes, the point where a nickname is used, is the point at which friendship is unequivocal. He didn’t really know what to do or say, and his hardened expression slipped off his face to give way to something a lot more vulnerable. Veronica noticed this, and of course, like any friend would, asked him if he was okay in a voice almost motherly, and Jughead wasn’t sure if it was the voice, the nickname or a combination of both that caused him to crack so quickly and break the news to her that he doesn’t live with his dad anymore.

Veronica frowned. “You’re homeless?”

“I live with Sweetpea.” Talking about not living with his dad was so much easier this time around, maybe because he wasn’t found to be living in a closet at school, and this time actually had warmth and something that closely resembled a bed. He wasn’t as affected by it, and in all honesty he was sure expecting the time to come where his Dad would get bad again. Nothing was ever a smooth run in the Jones family.

“Homeless?”

“No I’m pretty sure I’d refer to his place as a home.”

Her frown deepened more and without a moment’s hesitation she was demanding he moved in with her.

“Have you just spontaneously forgotten that your dad is on a rampage against the whole of the Southside? Not to mention the tattoo on my arm. I don’t think that would fly with any of your family.”

Veronica huffed. “I bet I could make it work.”

“Yeah okay Ro-Veronica. Because you know best,” he teased, ignoring the intrusive thoughts brought about by almost calling her Ronnie. He didn’t know if it was too early for nicknames – their fathers were at war for godsake it was a miracle they even spoke, let alone had midnight Romeo and Juliet style rendezvous at Pops to talk about their lives and how utterly shit they were becoming.

Veronica sure heard the slip up, what with the smirk resting on her lips, and Jughead just rolled his eyes fondly at her and shot her the finger as she carried on to talk about Archie and how he’d brought her roses the other day. Like he didn’t know. He was there when Archie was fretting over whether to buy the girl red ones or pink ones. But he didn’t voice that, just let Veronica talk on as if it was the first time he’d ever heard the story. Anything to keep his friend happy and chatting away.

They had to be some of his favourite times, sitting in the booth at Pops at half 2 in the morning with Veronica gossiping animatedly under the red hue of the lights.

There were plenty of late night rambles with Veronica, and they spoke about everything and anything on the table, swearing to an oath that all they said never left the table. Jughead found out all about Archie’s disgustingly sappy side (he already knew about it but he acted as if he’d never even had an inkling), and all about Kevin’s gossip and Veronica learnt all about Jellybean and Jughead’s residual feelings towards Betty and even some sexual secrets that Veronica never thought Jughead would have let alone share willingly without the presence of a gun to his head.

They spoke about books and films and politics and the president and their future plans and their past experiences.

Nothing was left to the imagination.

It was 4am on a Thursday morning when Veronica leant forward with a glint too bright for the time of day in her eye to say something. She was wearing leggings and a huge jumper and only had mascara and concealer on, an outfit that Jughead knew he was the only one who had the privilege of seeing her in and it did make him smile that she felt so comfortable around him that she didn’t have to be her prim, sophisticated self around him constantly. “Think we’ve made it so far as to use the respective shortened nicknames now?”

Jughead raised his eyebrows and smiled at her gently. “You tell me Lodge. Are we on a high enough level of friendship for that?”

“As much as I enjoy calling you mystery boy, Jug is so much more convenient and kinder on my face muscles,” Veronica answered back.

“And what do I refer to you as? Ron? Ronnie?” He already knew which one he preferred.

“Ron’s nice but Ronnie works too.” She tilted her head and shrugged.

“So is that it? Ronnie? Because I do like the ring it has.”

“You’re acting like you made up the nickname Ozzy Osbourne. Let’s not forget the rest of the school has been using it since the start of the year.”

“Yes. But the way I say it has a certain…tone. It comes with practise. Don’t tell me you can’t detect it Emily the Strange.”

She smiled softly and stirred her milkshake slightly with her straw. “I’ll admit it yes; it does have a slightly different timbre coming out of your mouth.” she squinted at him with a smile. “I like it.”

He stole one of her fries and cocked his head to the side, the same cheeky grin on his face that’s presence paralleled that of Veronica’s. “I’ll think it through. Not sure if using affectionate nicknames will taint my social loner identity.”

Veronica rolled her eyes fondly. “I’m sorry to say but being my friend has already severely dented that my dearest. Maybe it wasn’t as durable as you first thought.”

Oh, it was durable all right, but best friend ‘Ronnie’ had all the right qualities in all the right doses to catalyse the reaction of The Great Breakdown of his strongest walls. That was definitely the point at which he saw Veronica as  _his_  best friend, and not just a best friend. He saw so much of himself in her and vice versa; they shared the same outlook on just about everything. They were almost the same person. Even if they were still battling on opposite sides of a war, their friendship was unwavering and the only thing they were fighting was the fond they showcased when they saw each other.


End file.
